


Make Me a Prince

by hopefulfeathers



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 14:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulfeathers/pseuds/hopefulfeathers
Summary: Day Three (Wednesday) of OQPromptParty!Prompt 141. Three Wishes ALONG WITH #s 3, 52, 114





	Make Me a Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 141. Three Wishes.
> 
> ALONG WITH
> 
> Prompt 3."Sorry I thought you were someone else."
> 
> Prompt 114."I just want to see you smile"
> 
> Prompt 52. Letters
> 
> This oneshot is inspired by the original Aladdin ;) Thank you so much, enjoy!

"ALL RIGHTY NOW! Let's make some MAGIC!" Genie puffs out his big blue chest, rubbing his hands together with glee. He grins at his new master who stares up at him with a look of great uncertainty. But that doesn't seem to deter the magical being in the slightest. "Come on, Robbie! Cheer up, pal! I'm about to make all your dreams come true! Now whatsit that you desire, eh? A palace? Mountains of gold as far as the eye can see? You are a thief after all, aren't ya?"

Feeling incredibly overwhelmed, Robin shoots the Genie a look of disbelief. "Well this is definitely not the outcome I'd expected from this heist," he mumbles to himself, sparing a quick glance at the opened sack of loot that he'd acquired from this morning's job: hijacking a foreign caravan that had found itself lost deep within the dense forests of Sherwood. Still incredibly hesitant, the thief lifts his head again, suspiciously eyeing the Genie. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yessiree!" Genie sings, "Anything you want aside from three simple rules!"

"And what are those rules?"

"Well, one, I can't kill anyone for ya." With a dramatic slash of his hand, the Genie slices his own head off, said detached body part falling straight into Robin's hands, prompting the poor thief's heart to practically leap from his chest. "See?—," the head floats from a stunned Robin's hands and pops right back on its rightful owner, "—It's not a great sight… Two! I can't make anyone fall in love." Genie's face distorts so that his now pursed lips become frightfully large. He plants a large, wet kiss onto Robin's grimacing face. "Mwah!"

"Eck! Okay, okay!" Robin wipes at his cheek, still cringing at the blue man's antics. "And what's the third?"

"I can't make anybody come back from the dead." Genie deadpans. "That's just gross."

Robin exhales loudly, swiping a hand through his hair as he takes in all this new information.

"Come on, pal—Robbie—there's gotta be _something_ that you want."

Robin chews on his lower lip, contemplating his options. It's not every day a common thief like him would come across such a catch. And he can't help but feel that this is what's meant to be. Why not indulge?

The thief ponders for a moment, brows knitted together. Three wishes. These must be good ones, certainly not to be wasted. Humble as he is to simply wish for a nice warm meal or even a roof over his head for once, Robin knows that these wishes have to hold some deeper meaning to his life. And upon thinking back to how it has been these past (rather interesting) couple of weeks, his truest desires slowly make themselves known.

"So?"

Robin heaves a sigh, reaching a hand up and behind himself to scratch nervously at the back of his neck. "Well… there's this girl…"

"Ah, ah, AH!" Genie stops him right there. "I can't make anybody fall in love, remember?"

The thief sighs again, shoulders sagging. "I know, I know. It's just this girl—well—she's not a girl, per se… more of like a woman—a queen actually," Robin stumbles over himself, his thoughts just as jumbled as his emotions are towards this enigmatic wonder. "She's just so pretty—no, I mean more than that—beautiful." He shakes his head. "I met her first in the marketplace."

"Wait a second. Hold up!" Genie exclaims, "You met the Queen? As in, THE QUEEN?! In the marketplace?"

Robin nods. "The very one, I'm afraid. She'd gotten caught up with one of the village degenerates. I saved her from his clutches. Her eyes—God those eyes—they were so wide, and so dark in color that they seemed endless. I just fell right into them."

The thief glances over at the Genie who is laying on his stomach in mid-air, kicking up his feet as he rests his chin on both his clasped hands. Two large pulsing hearts have replaced his eyes as he looks adoringly at him. "Awwww!"

"She was disguised wearing peasant's attire," Robin elaborates, ignoring the blue man's antics, "The only way I recognized her was because of those eyes."

"How so?"

"They were sad… just absolutely miserable. The look of loneliness was just heartbreaking." Robin shakes his head. "There's only one place I'd seen that look before and that was when I'd witnessed the old King, Queen, and Princess riding with their knighted escorts through the forest en route to their summer castle. I'd never forget. The Queen, she was so elegant, looking every bit the picture of perfection when poised on her horse. But she sported that same exact look." The thief shrugs his shoulder. "So I knew."

"Does she know who you are?"

"I doubt it," Robin sighs, sinking down to the base of the tree. "I was but a convenient hero to her that day, I'm sure."

"Oh… well, what are you gonna do about it?" The Genie sports a large frown, eyes studying the thief who sits with his back to the tree.

"I don't know. I don't know if I'll ever be able to—" Robin halts, having interrupted himself with yet another one of his ingenious plans. A slow grin spreads across his face. "Genie."

"Yeah?"

"Can you make me a prince?"

"WHAT?" Genie dashes into the air again, eyes bulging comically. "Whoa, whoa, wait a tiny second. You do realize that the Queen is married, _right_?"

Robin groans, forcing himself not to roll his eyes (his attitude not necessarily directed at the Genie but at the circumstances of this delicate situation). "I know," he answers wryly, "I've noticed."

"So, what's the prince thing have to do with this then?"

"Well." Upon reaching into the pocket of his trousers, Robin reveals a folded piece of paper which he promptly hands to Genie. It's an invitation he'd stolen from some noble's satchel just a few days ago. "There's a ball tonight," he explains, "It's to celebrate the King's birthday. I had planned to rob it…"

"So now you wanna—I don't know—rob it in style, I guess?" The Genie gives him a cheeky grin.

Robin rolls his eyes. "Just if I can get up close to her again, I can perhaps talk to her, get to know her better in a setting where I wouldn't need to be constantly worried about getting thrown into the royal dungeons. And I can talk to her as she is, without any pretense."

"But you forget, my dear master, that you'll be the one now in a costume."

"I know," Robin sighs, "I just highly doubt that the Queen would be so willing to venture off into the forest again, given what could have happened had I not been there. This may be my last chance."

"Okay, buddy. As long as that's your final answer?"

Robin stands, drawing himself up and nodding firmly, eyes set hard with a new purpose. "Yes," he declares. "It is. I wish to be a prince."

"Okey dokey!" Genie sings. As he rises higher into the air, he puffs out his chest once more and cracks his knuckles. "One prince, coming right up!"

With a wave of his hand, Robin is surrounded by a swirl of blue magic. The blink of an eye, a rush of air, and with the smoke clearing, the thief stands now in a formal jacket, a deep forest green in color, decorated by red stripes sewn vertically down the front along with gleaming golden buttons and thick epaulettes of the same color burdening his shoulders. He sports an elaborate belt with a large buckle that glints in the setting sun's fading light. Plain black trousers, knee-high boots, and a decorative sword hanging snugly against his hip complete his look. To say that the thief is impressed is an understatement.

"There we are! You are no longer Robin Hood." The Genie announces in a mock version of how the master of ceremonies would speak, "I give you, Prince Robin Locksley of Great Britain."

"Britain?" Robin tilts his head, confused.

Genie shrugs, sending him a toothy smile. "With that accent you'll fit right in there, don't worry!"

Robin shakes his head, slightly amused as he adjusts the sword on his hip.

"You best be off," Genie declares, "It's almost time to party!"

The thief nods. Straightening himself, he runs a hand through his hair. "Let's do it."

"All righty!" Genie sings before suddenly his demeanor dims into something a bit more serious. It freezes Robin for a short second as the blue man abruptly wraps an arm around Robin's shoulders, giving him a little genuine squeeze. "And just a little free advice, eh?" He then whispers into the thief's ear, "I may have made you look like a prince now. But just remember, this is just to help ya out. What really matters is what's on the inside."

Robin gazes at the Genie, sapphire eyes now fixed with determination.

"Just remember to be yourself, and everything will fall into place. And do have fun—maybe even give her a little scandalous smooch for me, I don't know!"

~ ~ ~

It's stuffy in the castle's Grand Hall. Or perhaps it's this prince's attire getting the best of the thief, who is normally so used to running about the forest in a free, flowing tunic and cape. The heavy wool of his jacket scrapes against him and his boots are far too heavy. But it's the people that really start getting on his last nerve. The pleasantries, the side conversations, the _questions_. Robin has a headache trying to come up with some suitable past or details of his fake life just in attempts to try and appease all of the noblemen's intrusive questions. He can tell it's all just a simple game of who's better: who has the biggest castle, who went on the most lavish of hunting trips, who owns the greatest stallion. No doubt that the thief can certainly understand how such an environment can be so incredibly stifling.

And then there's the Queen amidst all of this, perched on her small throne at the center of the table of honor. She is absolutely stunning tonight. Dressed in a tasteful light bluish-gray gown adorned with patterns of diamonds that sparkle in the light, a heavy-looking crown laid heavily amidst a nest of ebony locks pinned up high atop her head, she looks every bit the part of the gracious young Queen. Facing out towards the floor's swarming crowd, she sports a rather stiff demeanor. A smile remains plastered to her perfectly pink lips, enough to fool any guest who wouldn't have enough of a care to look closer. Her eyes are sorrowful, distant as they look about but don't see. Within the last hour or so, Robin has noticed just a handful of noblewomen make their way up to engage with a short conversation with the Queen. He can tell in the way she livens up briefly that they help a little in assuaging the apparent boredom and exhaustion of this tedious night. But she's still no less warm as she keeps all of their fawning at an arm's distance.

The night drags on, leaving Robin promptly unable to find the right time to approach the Queen as he is constantly sidetracked by getting himself caught up in yet another mindless conversation. It's not like he can speak with the Queen anyway—not in the way he wishes—with her exposed like this. Soon, it's not long for the thief to feel an incredibly heavy sinking feeling in his gut, brought on by the thought that this precious gift he has received is wasting away.

So it is when the time comes for the King to toast the evening, Robin is at his wits end. He listens to the monotone voice of the old man in the crown, a voice that drones on and on about how grateful he is to have been blessed with such longevity and with his beloved Snow White at his side; her being the true keeper of his heart and soul. At this bit, the thief is quick to sneak a glance at the Queen to gauge her reaction. And he sees her sitting there still at the table at the very back, looking far more desolate than she had before. Even from his view, he can see her eyes shining under the dim light of the chandelier.

It's in this moment that Robin's heart pours out to her. It's a pang of deep sadness and empathy striking his organ that makes him want nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms, tell her sweet things that he's certain she isn't privy to much, and make her smile as he showers her with all the warmth and love he can possibly give. As he continues to eye her discreetly, that desire only grows and grows. He needs to get to her, needs to comfort her.

And suddenly, as if his prayers are answered, Robin sees the Queen slowly make her way to stand. Heart catching in his throat, he watches her head down the steps of where the table stands and disappear through the open double glass doors into the darkness outside.

This now is his chance.

Without another moment to spare, Robin discreetly slides himself from the crowd that still pays rapt attention to the old King's ramblings. He follows in the footsteps of the Queen, making his way slowly in the direction of her escape.

It takes a moment's adjustment to the darkness in Robin's vision before he finds himself in a small courtyard at the back of the castle. The air is chilly outside, a gentle wind that ruffles the leaves of a singular apple tree that stands in all its glory as the centerpiece of the garden. Underneath, and giving a doleful stare up into its thick branches heavy with fruit, is the Queen in all her grace and beauty. Her arms are wrapped tightly around herself, perhaps to shield herself from the outer cold… or perhaps to provide some sort of warmth for the unmistakable frigidness that consumes her from the inside.

It's with a soft drawn in breath that Robin slowly approaches the young Queen, careful not to startle her, especially given her current state.

"I see you've left the party, Your Majesty." The thief's voice is but a whisper on the breeze.

The Queen's shoulders jump slightly as she is abruptly made aware of his presence. She turns to face him, a look of misery and loneliness so clear from her otherwise vacant expression. Her eyes shine like dark crystal globes in the moonlight, deep pools that stretch deep into her soul.

"No one seems to notice my absence," she replies, her voice breaking.

"I do." Robin gives her a small smile, coming close enough to stand next to her, though at a respectful distance. "It breaks my heart to see you in such distress."

"What do you want?" The Queen gives him a tired look, believing him to be nothing more than another noble who bears no concept of respect when it comes to keeping his distance from the king's property. She thinks him to be just another who would disrespect her so, tempting her in vain only to satisfy their own licentious fantasies.

Robin sighs gently, shaking his head as if to deny all of her unspoken beliefs. "I just want to see you smile," he replies a bit more honestly than he'd hoped. What's a woman to say to that?

The Queen appears a bit taken aback by this, her dark eyes widening ever so slightly. "Surely you wouldn't be a fool as to request such a thing."

"If that's what it takes, then so be it."

The Queen lets out a bitter laugh. "How incredibly rude of you," she scoffs, "thinking that I am anything but the happily married wife of the King, the stepmother to his precious daughter. Do you assume me to be so ungrateful of the King's kindness? Anyone in my position would be—"

"But not you," Robin softly interrupts, "And it's okay. Why?"

The woman before him shakes her head, turning abruptly away from the thief. Yet, she does not run. "I am under no obligation to give you any explanation, oh prince. I owe you nothing."

"Perhaps not," Robin sighs, "I just wish I can do something to assuage your pain. I can see it in your eyes, Your Majesty. You are lost. And believe me, I understand what that feels like."

"You can't possibly."

Robin shakes his head, pressing on. "You feel trapped. You long for freedom. I can give that to you."

"You can give it to me how?" Her voice is skeptical and she still refuses to look at him.

"I have a lamp," Robin blurts out, "A genie's lamp. I can make a wish to free you of this, should you so choose."

At his offer, the Queen faces him once more, doubtful than ever. "If this is a trick…"

"It's not a trick, I can assure you." Robin smiles sadly. "You deserve so much more than this prison. You deserve happiness. And damned may I be if I just sit here and watch that fiery light flicker out from your eyes when I know I can do something about it."

Profoundly touched, the Queen steps closer to him, her eyes meeting his gaze and holding it for the first time this evening. She stares deep into his dark, now navy-blue eyes as she searches him quietly. Her brows pull together, glistening orbs flitting to and fro as she tries to piece together what possibly could be driving this stranger to say such things, things that imply he must have somehow previously known her.

Suddenly, after what feels like hours of suspenseful silence, there's a certain light which dawns in her eyes. And it makes Robin's heart pound a little faster. "Milady?"

His moniker for her has her lips popping open, a soft gasp.

"Are you all right?" Robin asks tentatively.

The Queen snaps her mouth shut. Upon remembering herself, she stiffens once more, receding back behind her now fractured barriers. "Sorry, I… I thought you were someone else," she mumbles as she lowers her gaze to the ground between them. She lets out somewhat of a frustrated sigh, resolve cracking once again. "A man that I had met a little while back. I don't recall his name but… I remember his eyes, as blue as the sea and deep as the river can flow and brimming with hope." She shakes her head at herself, wrapping her arms even tighter around her body. "Foolish, I know."

The corners of Robin's lips quirk upward. And in this moment, prompted by her almost recollection, he finds the courage to reach forward and fit his hand beneath her chin. Raising her eyes back up to his, he sees the way her lips part once more, a soft breath escaping in a gentle puff of air. He can see that she is fully captured within his gaze, one so sincere that it needs no words to explain. A deep understanding, a profound connection, runs like electricity between the two… just as it had done the first time Robin had been bold enough to lift her chin. She stares at him with her eyes wide like a doe's—just like before—beautiful and guileless, raw and of pure desire.

And it is those eyes that prompt Robin to lean forward, reciprocated by her own drifting towards him, until their lips meet. It's not a fully-fledged kiss, more so of a tender brushing of lips. But the sentiment burns like a fire between them, the undeniable fact that they are drawn to one another by some inexplicable force. And neither wants this spell to end.

"My offer still stands, milady," Robin whispers against her skin. "I shall send you a letter by raven in the morn and wait eagerly for your response." He slowly pulls back, eyes reading her expression. "Take as much time as you need," he adds with a small smile, "You're worth the wait."

And it's with that, that the thief is turning around. He heads back towards those double doors, intent on letting the Queen process what had just happened, just as he needs to do the same. He has overwhelmed them both enough this night.

"Wait."

Her voice calls him to halt just a few feet away from the Grand Hall's entrance. With a soft frown, Robin turns to gaze over his shoulder.

"Regina."

The thief shakes his head. "Pardon?"

"My name," the Queen says, "It's Regina." The smallest of smiles slips across her lips, like a phantom of the lighthearted woman that Robin could see in her. It's nothing much really, elusive. But it makes the thief's heart soar. "I realize I never had the chance to tell you my name before. And I realize I owe a thank you."

Robin chuckles softly, his smile spreading in the dim light of night. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Regina. And please, call me Robin."

He turns away then, heading back inside to join in with the rest of the evening's festivities; heart now light and full of hope—confident that with his next and last two wishes, he believes that maybe, just maybe, this may work.


End file.
